A Snow Driven Hurt. Poem by Michael Gale

Snow flakes wound into a sheet or mound...
Only voices to echoes the icy cold sound.

Snowmen in the park...
Assembled by kids since the evening's dark.

A carrot nose, and snow metted cheeks....
Nothing said, by he who doth naught speak.

Geese fly over head in cold felt sweeps...
Awaiting unto later's, Spring a promised vow to men, yet it keeps.

Keeps men awaiting of the air bourne melt...
After all the snow shoveled, released it's last cold felt.

Trees hit hard as if abound by snowy ice...
Alas, alas, it's nothing good, left as nice.

Power outtages, attacked a lot of homes of men...
We all looked up to Heaven, asking Him, was it our sin?

When again? ...
Will't Summer renew as begin?